


Two Sides Of A Coin

by Blue_Night



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hiding, Homophobia, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Self-Denial, Sexual Frustration, coming to terms with oneself, self-doubts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 08:31:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9811400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Blue_Night
Summary: Mario and Marco have been in a secret relationship before Mario left to play in Munich, but he never allowed Mario to be the one on top. After Mario's return, his need to experience this with another man becomes too strong to ignore it any longer, and he goes to a club to search for a man who will let him top for at least one time. He meets Erik in the club who has been friends with benefits with Marco until a couple of weeks ago, breaking up with him because of Marco's inability to bottom for another man. What will happen when Erik offers Mario to bottom for him?Marco is frustrated because his secret arrangments with Mario and Erik didn't work out, and he visits another club in the same night to forget his frustration. To his surprise, he meets his former teammate Robert Lewandowski there, who he has secretly desired for a rather long time. But Robert isn't the man to bottom for another man that easily, especially not for a man refusing to bottom himself. Will Marco finally be able to bottom for another man and admit to himself who he truly is, or will he deny himself what he craves for again?





	1. Mario

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Janie94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janie94/gifts), [GoForGoals](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoForGoals/gifts), [pinkquill22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkquill22/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Feel Your Echoes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8717596) by [Janie94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janie94/pseuds/Janie94). 
  * Inspired by [Losing and winning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9715706) by [GoForGoals](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoForGoals/pseuds/GoForGoals). 
  * Inspired by [Another loss, another win](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9799883) by [GoForGoals](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoForGoals/pseuds/GoForGoals). 



> Dear Janie94, you might know where this idea came from, I actually wanted to write only Mario's chapter at first, but decided that I need Marco's POV for this story as well. This story has nothing to do with A/B/O, but it would never have been written without 'Feel Your Echoes', so you can see how much your wonderful stories inspire me. I really hope that you will like this. :-**
> 
> Dear GoForGoals, your two oneshots inspired me to this story as much as Janie94's 'Feel Your Echoes', especially the second chapter I will post asap, so this here is for you too. I hope you will like my intake of this topic. (And Mario's and Marco's first times of course! ;-**
> 
> Dear pinkquill22, I wouldn't have thought that my Erik/Mario-story would be one of the firsts you would read, and I am still amazed that you actually liked it so much. <33 I know that you normally don't ship Mario and Erik together, but I hope that you will enjoy this story nonetheless, the second chapter will be about Marco and Robert. :-)
> 
> My dear readers, it has become hard for me to write Mario over the past months, even though I really admire him as a footballer and find the way he has been treated by both clubs, Bayern and Dortmund frustrating and disappointing. I know that Erik and Mario are not a common pairing, but I am better at writing Mario with someone else than Marco, at least at the moment. This idea popped up yesterday and haunted me ever since then, and I actually wanted to write only the first chapter, but I think Marco deserves his own chapter as well. This story deals with the lives of footballers who have to hide their true orientation and their suppressed needs and feelings.
> 
> I would be most grateful for your feedback and hearing your opinion, so please leave kudos and comments for me, I hope you'll enjoy this. <33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mario visits a club where he hopes to find a man willing to let him be the one on top for the first time after suppressing his feelings for years. Little does he know that he will meet his teammate Erik in this club as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has become quite long again, but I found Mario's encounter with Erik in the club too important to cut it short. I hope that I was able to make Mario's feelings palpable. Please let me know if I did. :-)

The club is crowded and the air heavy with smoke and sweat, but Mario welcomes both, the anonymity the bulk of swaying, dancing and pushing bodies grants him and the gray shadows and clouds he can dive and disappear into, becoming one of those anonymous strangers for at least one night.

The last time Mario came here was years ago, together with someone else, someone special. The memory still hurts, and Mario pushes it to the side, not willing to let this memory ruin his evening.

Tonight, he came here alone and for a special reason, and Mario won't let get anything in his way, especially not the memory of other times long gone when he was too young to know who he truly is.

The footballer pushes his mask back in place, the black one covering his face as much as the invisible mask he has worn for years to hide his feelings from the world, making his way to the bar with his gaze directed straight forward, ignoring the appraising glances of the clubbers crossing his way. The night is still young and Mario will choose carefully and without any haste who he will take home with him tonight.

The masks will make it easier for him to watch and to choose, and Mario relaxes and leans comfortably against the bar when he has gotten his drink – cola because getting drunk is not an option – allowing his eyes to wander aimlessly around and measure the other men jumping up and down and to the left and the right on the dance floor.

Mario frowns when he realizes that he has unconsciously looked for that special someone he had come here with the last time, and he turns his head away and presses his lips to a thin line, annoyed with himself that he seems to be unable to forget.

“Hey Mario.”

The voice suddenly sounding beside him is not the voice of that special someone he tries to forget, but Mario knows the owner of this voice well enough to suppress a frustrated groan. He hesitates, but he can feel the eyes of the taller one resting on his face, and the calm but firm tone the newcomer addressed him with tells Mario that he doesn't even need to try and pretend that he isn't the one the other man takes him for.

Mario slowly turns his head to look at him.

“Hi Erik.”

Erik Durm wears a similar mask like Mario does, and he wears a cowboy costume with a large hat that should make him look ridiculous but makes him look only even more handsome than he already is. Mario feels a strange flutter in his stomach as he takes in the sight, hoping that his own costume as a pirate won't make Erik laugh at him.

Erik considers him curiously, but he doesn't laugh, only smiles at him. It is a friendly and honest smile that lets his beautiful hazel-green eyes sparkle behind the mask.

“I've never seen you here before, Mario.” Erik sips from his glass - the dark liquid probably being cola as well, tilting his head to the side and crossing his long legs as he leans against the counter. Mario's teammate is relaxed and at ease with himself and his surroundings, and Mario thinks that Erik must come here on a regular basis, opposite to him. Of course, Erik isn't the one living with a woman just to keep up appearances.

“It's been a long time since I last was here,” Mario finally says when he realizes that Erik's statement expects an answer.

“With Marco.” Not a question, just another statement again. Mario nods, sipping from his own coke to busy himself and avoid Erik's attentive gaze.

The situation is weird, Mario thinks, here he stands, talking to the current boyfriend of his own former boyfriend while furtively looking around to search for a willing guy who will finally let him do what Marco never did.

“Where is Marco by the way? Didn't you come here together?” Mario asks to change the topic when the silence between them stretches to an uncomfortable length.

“Nope. We decided to go different ways in the future a couple of weeks ago.”

Mario blinks, taken aback by this almost casual announcement. He tries to remember the last times he has seen Erik and Marco together, but he can't come up with anything unusual. Erik and Marco were as professional as always, and they talked and laughed as if everything was fine between them.

“We were more friends with benefits than a real couple, Mario, unlike you and Marco.” Erik's quiet but scrutinizing observation makes Mario nervous, and he shifts his weight and averts his eyes to stare at the dance floor instead.

“Marco and I have never been a real couple either, Erik,” he says even though this is not true. They were a couple back then, four years ago, madly in love with each other. But the fact that they had to hide their love and pretend that they were only friends destroyed their love in the end, and Mario ran away and brought as much distance between them as he could, hoping that this would help him to get over Marco. To get over his heartache, all the slyness and Marco's inability to give what Mario longed for so badly, which is the reason why Mario went to this club tonight.

The young footballer has never slept with another man again since their painful breakup, but denying himself what he craves for – being together with a man instead of a woman at least now and then – destroys him as much as the slyness and pretending did, and so Mario came here, hoping that he would find here what he longs for so desperately.

“Of course you were, Mario. Marco has still feelings for you, and it is pretty obvious that the same goes for you.” Erik doesn't sound reproachful or bitter, if anything his voice is only understanding and somehow resigned.

Mario shoots him a sidelong glance. “Is this the reason why you broke up?” he asks, because he really likes Erik, and he doesn't want to be the reason why Erik's relationship with Marco didn't work out.

Erik shrugs his shoulders. “If it was, then only to a minor part, Mario. As I said, we were more friends with benefits, and as you probably know, Marco has problems with... hmm... returning some favors.”

Mario knows exactly what Erik means, and he feels himself blushing furiously. He turns his head away, hoping that the darkness in the club will hide his reaction, but Erik must have seen it nonetheless, because he slowly nods his head. “That's why you came here, Mario, didn't you? To find someone who will give you what Marco always denied you.”

Mario swallows, side-glancing at the taller brunet with narrowed eyes. Erik grins his mischievous grin, and his irresistible dimples become visible under the mask. “I thought so the minute I watched you walk into this club after the long time you hadn't been here. But you shouldn't do that with a stranger, Mario. So if you're sure that you really want that – I'm at your disposal.”

Mario's jaw drops, and he isn't sure whether or not his ears have played tricks on him. “Why would you do that, Erik? You just told me that Marco didn't let you... do it... so why would you possibly want to do that for me? Wouldn't you rather prefer me to...” Mario can't finish the sentence and swallows again. “Is this some kind of taking revenge on Marco?”

Erik looks unaffected by Mario's accusation. “No, it isn't, Mario. I'm not angry with Marco, we're still friends, and I wish him all the best. In fact, I told him to think carefully about what he wants for himself in the future and that he should finally make his peace with his true nature and his feelings. I won't tell him about you and me if you won't. We know each other and we are friends, at least I think that we are, but if you prefer to make this experience with a stranger, than that's fine with me. I will keep your secret confidential, don't worry.”

Mario relaxes, and he dares to meet the hazel-green eyes behind the mask openly. Erik doesn't hawk his orientation around, but he is at peace with himself and doesn't search for a girlfriend to keep up appearances, so he probably speaks the truth.

“You would really do that for me?” the shorter one finally asks, and Erik smiles at him. “Of course, Mario. I wouldn't joke about something like that. Your place or mine?”

 

***

 

Mario is nervous like hell when they reach Erik's flat, and his knees feel like jelly, partly because of what will happen soon, partly because of his relief that it will be Erik and not a random acquaintance like he thought it would be.

The door closes behind them and Erik pulls Mario close and winks at him. “You're a stunning pirate by the way, this costume suits you, Mario.”

Mario can feel the tension leave his body and he winks back. “Your costume suits you as well, cowboy, even though it would look ridiculous on anybody else. This hat...”

Erik chuckles. “I can take it off, it will only be in the way when we kiss any way.” He throws the hat through the air with surprising skills, and it lands on the hook next to the large mirror as if Erik had practiced that before. “That comes from my Darts sessions with my friends,” he explains when he sees Mario's expression, tugging at his mask. “Let me see your beautiful eyes,” he whispers, the air filled with tension again all of a sudden, but it is the good kind of tension, filled with anticipation and desire.

Mario closes his eyes when he feels Erik's warm breath ghosting over his stubbly cheeks, and when their lips touch for the first time, he lets out a possessive growl and pushes Erik against the wall next to the door, taking control of their kiss.

Erik lets him do it, dueling playfully with his tongue when Mario starts to explore and claim his mouth, he only pushes against Mario's strong figure to drag him along the corridor. They stumble their way to his bedroom kissing, and Mario is already hard and aching when they finally reach it.

It is a good thing that they are familiar with each other, have seen one another naked several times before in the showers after training, because it makes the necessary undressing part less awkward and long. They are naked when they reach the bed, their costumes lying in a messy heap on the thick carpet before the large wardrobe and the nightstand.

Mario pushes against Erik and the taller brunet falls down onto his bed with a husky snicker, pulling Mario with him. They are still kissing with teeth and tongues and spit, and Mario grabs Erik's tousled hair to keep his head in place as he demands his surrender and thrusts deep into the soft cavern with his tongue. It is a playful battle Mario intends to win, his long suppressed emotions taking the upper hand as they rise to the surface without any chance that Mario will be able to push them aside again. Not after the long time he has kept them locked deep inside his heart, feeling lonely and like living the life of somebody else.

The younger one hears himself growling and snarling, but Erik doesn't seem to mind, quite the opposite. He pulls Mario closer, his nails scratching over his back and leaving his own marks there. His teammate is as aroused as Mario is, his rock-hard cock rubbing against Mario's abs with obvious eagerness. Mario's head is spinning from his desire and the lack of air due to their ardent kiss, and he pulls back from Erik's thoroughly kissed lips to make his way down on the beautiful male body, kissing, licking, nipping and sucking at the soft skin and the heated flesh. Erik smells intoxicating and Mario inhales his scent almost greedily, the mixture of the older one's musky aftershave, fresh sweat and his own unique male and fresh scent filling his senses in the most tempting way.

Erik's skin is smooth and soft, warm and damp from his arousal, but his body is all male, hard and well-toned, his chiseled breast muscles crowned with two red knobs Mario can't resist to take in his mouth and tease them with his teeth. Erik moans and shivers underneath him, his voice hoarse with desire and lust. “Fuck, Mario, that's good, don't stop!” the older one demands breathlessly, and Mario growls very pleased, treating the other nipple with the same passion he has treated the first one with. His hands roam over quivering flanks and narrow hips to knead Erik's perfect butt, the overwhelming need to sheathe himself deep into the tight heat of the other male stealing his breath from his lips.

Erik digs his short nails into his shoulders and arches his back to get more friction. “Drawer, lube, condoms!” he grinds out, but Mario doesn't obey, because if Erik is willing to grant him the experience of finally topping, then he will do it thoroughly and make sure that Erik won't regret his decision.

“Don't be that impatient, handsome, I'm not done with you. We have only just begun!” he tells his friend, teammate and lover for one night off, brave enough to call Erik by a petname. Erik shivers and curses quietly when Mario kisses his way down south, his hands holding him in place.

It has been a long time since he has last done it, and it feels a little weird at the beginning to do it for someone else than Marco, but Erik's cock is a real beauty, straining proudly into the air and eager to get some attention.

“Uh, oh, fuck, Mario!!” Erik involuntarily bucks his hips up with the sensation of a pair of warm and wet lips enclosing his throbbing shaft with firm determination, and Mario needs to pull back to not gag. “Sorry,” Erik breathes, “It's just so good!”

“I'll take that as a compliment,” Mario chuckles, starting a second attempt. Erik's dick is heavy on his tongue, and it tastes as delicious as Erik smells, musky and so very male. Mario could easily get addicted to his smell and his taste, and he starts to suck his cock with rapt devotion, massaging the pulsing length with his tongue and hollowing his cheeks to draw more moans and gasps from the other man.

Erik cards with his fingers through his short hair and whispers hoarse words of encouragement and pleasure, his thighs trembling with his efforts to keep his hips still and not thrust upwards and hurt the one pleasuring him that much.

Mario bobs his head up and down on Erik's cock, and his own manhood complains loudly about being neglected, but there is no way that Mario will come before he is buried to the hilt in the other man. He crouches between Erik's spread legs and when he is sure that Erik won't move uncontrollably too much, he reaches out with his hand to play with his erect nipples while he sucks him into sweet oblivion.

“Mario, oh, Mario, this is so good, don't stop, please don't stop, I'm so close!” Erik shouts before he comes the next second, shooting his salty release into Mario's willing mouth. Jet follows after jet, and Mario swallows, happy that he was able to satisfy Erik that much. The older brunet goes limp with a strangled moan, and Mario licks him clean and kisses his way upwards again.

Erik smiles at him with a blissed-out expression, and Mario kisses him and lets him taste himself. “You're delicious, handsome,” he purrs, and Erik chuckles and ruffles his hair. “This was amazing, thank you, Mario.”

Mario pulls at the drawer to take the lube and the condom out of it, his hands trembling slightly. He is nervous again, and he hesitates, because he doesn't want his first time being on top to be a pity fuck, but Erik seems to sense what's troubling him, and he pulls him down and kisses him passionately.

“I really want it, Mario. I actually like to bottom, and I'm not doing that because I pity you. You're a great friend and a very attractive and good-looking man, there is nothing about you that needed to be pitied. You're desirable and I want you to fuck me through the mattress, I really do. I wouldn't do it for just anyone.”

He has done it for Marco, but this is something Mario understands quite well, and Erik's with his desire dark eyes prove to Mario that he doesn't need to worry that this will be an act of pity.

“I want you!” he snarls, and Erik growls and pushes the bottle with the lube into his hand. “Then take me!”

 

***

 

The preparation has gone by with more kisses and caresses, Erik luckily being so foresighted to not touch his throbbing arousal, because Mario is pretty sure that he wouldn't have been able to hold back feeling those long and elegant fingers around his cock and watching Erik jerk him off.

The taller one was relaxed and pliant enough after his orgasm that it didn't take long until he told Mario that he is more than ready to be taken, and Mario turns away from him as he struggles to put the condom where it belongs without damaging it. He lubes himself up with shaky fingers and turns around again, unsure in which position Erik wants to bottom for him.

His friend opens his arms for him. “I want to watch you, Mario, I want to see every tiny bit of you when we make love. I want to feel your hard cock moving inside me, and I want to see your face when you come. I really need you inside me now.”

Mario draws in a deep breath and covers Erik with his body, bringing himself into position between Erik's spread thighs. The head of his cock nudges against the puckered rosebud of Erik's secret entrance, and Mario is grateful for the thin layer of latex that smooths the sensation a little bit as he slowly pushes in, the tight ring muscle clenching against the intrusion at first.

“That's great, keep doing that!” Erik hisses, his hands on Mario's butt to guide him where he wants to be so badly. Erik is so tight and hot, his walls pulsing around the cheeky invader. Mario needs to pause for a moment to not just lose it, and he focuses on his breathing and bites his lip.

“Fuck, you're so tight, handsome. So incredibly tight!” he grinds out, and Erik snickers against his flushed cheek. “You want me to be tight for you, don't you, babe? Don't worry, I can take you, just go slow enough so I can enjoy it. You feel so good inside me!”

Mario shuts him up with a deep kiss because listening to Erik's husky words pushes him to his limits, and he moves forward, thrusting all the way in as slowly as he is able to. Erik stretches around him and moans, his hands pulling him closer until there is not only single millimeter of space left between them. Erik's hard cock is trapped between their sweaty abs, and Mario wants to sob with relief when he feels that the other brunet is hard again, hard and ready to be taken.

“Just like that, as deep as you can!”

Erik doesn't need to say that twice, Mario couldn't stop even if he wanted to, and his hips move to their own will, drawing back and pushing in again because Mario really needs to move, to feel, to come.

The act might be not so different from sleeping with a woman, but the feelings are totally different, the sensation of Erik's hard cock rubbing against his abdomen with every move, the way Erik encourages him in this husky voice and the way he digs his short nails into Mario's quivering backside. Erik smells of arousal and lust, and the look in his hooded eyes is demanding and predatory, the look of a strong male equal to Mario.

Mario is so hard that it actually hurts, and he moves faster, chasing his release with wanton abandon, his hands braced against the mattress on each side of Erik's head. Erik looks so beautiful, his lips red and swollen from their kisses, his cheeks pink and damp with the sweat of arousal, Mario can see the stubble on his chin. The beautiful hazel-green eyes watching him are blown and dark with his desire, and Erik pushes against him to meet his thrusts with the strength and stamina of a the well-trained sportsman he actually is.

The air of Erik's bedroom is filled with their harsh breathing, their moans and growls and the sounds of wet skin slapping against wet skin in a frantic rhythm, and Mario shifts his weight to change the angle and pull Erik's hips higher with one hand. His suspicion proves to be right because Erik shouts with the next push in and arches violently from the bed when Mario hits his sweet spot for the first time. His cock trapped between their bodies twitches and leaks a generous amount of precome against Mario's hip, and the younger brunet forgets his own burning need as he loses himself in his new task of turning Erik into a screaming and writhing mess.

He must do it right, because Erik rewards him with howls and mewls, and he clutches Mario's ass for dear life now. Good. This might be Mario's first time on top, but he is determined to make sure that Erik will remember this night for a very long time and not regret that he volunteered as Mario's first bottom.

“Uh, ah, fuck, fuck, fuck, how are you doing this? Yessss, keep doing that, don't stop, don't you dare to stop!” Erik shouts, his cock growing longer and harder if that's even possible. The pulsing of his channel becomes more and more urgent, and Mario growls and continues with his relentless pummeling, pistoning in and out as fast and hard as he can. The heat of his own desire makes his blood boil in his veins, and he can't believe that he has actually waited for so long to finally experience this, to finally give in to his need to fuck a willing man into the sheets.

“I'm close, babe, this is so good, don't stop!” Erik moans, his gaze blurring with the first wave of his second orgasm, but he keeps eye-contact and lets Mario see his pleasure.

Mario's breath hitches in his throat as he watches his lover coming undone, Erik's seed bristling all over his twitching shaft and spilling all over their connected bodies. His walls spasm around Mario's aching cock and milk his own climax from him, and Mario fears that he will black out from the sheer force of his ecstasy and satisfaction.

“Erik!” He rams himself into the other brunet one last time, and his cock explodes like it has never done before, filling the rubber with his seed until Mario has nothing more to give. He slumps down on Erik, shuddering through his height together with him, and the waves of the aftershock are almost as painful as the ecstasy has been.

“Wow, Mario. This was...” Erik obviously has no words left to describe how it was, and Mario can't keep the happy laughter inside that's bubbling out of him. “Amazing?” he comes to Erik's help, and Erik snickers and kisses his damp temple. “Better than amazing. It's been a long time since I last came untouched, and this after your truly mind-blowing blow job.”

“Oh, wow, thank you.” Mario lifts his head from where it was pillowed on Erik's shoulder. “Do you want me to return the favor?” he asks, hoping that Erik will actually want that. Mario visited the club to finally top another man for the first time, but he finds himself longing to bottom for Erik, to feel another man – Erik – take him and fill him with his hard cock, and he also finds himself being more than fine with that.

Erik's gaze becomes tender, and he kisses Mario softly. “I would love that, Mario, but I have to admit that I am a little bit exhausted, you really tired me out,” he says, winking mischievously at him.

“Maybe another time?” Mario asks hopefully, and Erik's eyes go dark with emotions and his smile becomes gentle. “You could stay here, Mario. I have a second toothbrush and I am sure that I will be good to go again after some hours of sleep.”

“Do you really want me to stay overnight?” Mario's heart beats faster by the prospect of spending the entire night with Erik, and his teammate, friend and now lover nods his head and kisses him.

“Yes, very much, if you want that too, Mario.”

Mario's answer is another tender and passionate kiss, and when they settle down in the bed again after cleaning up the mess they have made, Mario falls asleep in Erik's arms with a smile on his face.

A smile that is not only a smile of satisfaction but also of hope that he won't have to hide his feelings in the future any longer and that Erik will be there to help him find his true self. Because this is what Mario actually wants the most, finally being his true self and live the life he needs to live to be happy, the life of the real Mario Götze.


	2. Marco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mario and Erik met in a club and spend the night together, Mario finally topping while sleeping with another man for the first time. In the meantime, Marco visits another club where he meets an old teammate he hadn't expected to meet there but has desired for a very long time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the feedback to the first chapter, I'm so happy that you liked Mario's first time on top. I hope you will like Marco's first time bottoming for another man just as much. :-) Please let me know and leave kudos and comments, because they are what keeps me writing for you. <33
> 
> My recommendation for you while reading this chapter: 
> 
> The Sisters Of Mercy: 'Temple Of Love'  
> 'Ribbons'  
> 'More'
> 
> The KLF: 'Last Train To Transcentral'
> 
> Rag 'N' Bone Man: I'm only human'
> 
> Enjoy!!

The club is already as crowded as Marco hoped it would be, the air heavy and filled with smoke, sweat and the evaporations of sex and drunken clubbers. It is not his favorite club, but Marco decided to come here instead because he didn't want to run into Erik by accident, suspecting that his ex-lover will probably go there to have a night of stupid fun and perhaps find someone being willing to give Erik what Marco refused to do.

This club is Marco's second favorite, and the blond footballer is determined to have some stupid fun himself and perhaps find someone being willing to give Marco what he wants without putting any pressure on him as well.

Marco pushes the black mask of his Robin-costume back in place and snakes himself through the crowd to blow some steam off on the dance floor before looking more closely for that special someone, but he stops as if he had run against an invisible wall just when he has reached the edge of the dance floor, staring incredulously at the man dancing only a few meters away from him.

What the fuck is he doing here in this club? In Dortmund of all cities?

Marco stares and gulps for air, gawks and swallows again, his eyes glued to the sight of his former teammate moving on the dance floor with lazy and yet elegant, fluent motions to the rhythms of _'I'm only human'_ of Rag 'N' Bone Man.

Robert Lewandowski doesn't wear a costume, only a black mask on his face similar to Marco's, but Marco would recognize this man even if he wore a wide monk's cowl with the hood pulled over his head, because no living being walking this Earth moves the way the dark-haired striker actually does.

Robert is dressed in black, black skinny jeans accentuating his perfect long legs in a way that Marco feels hot and flushed all of a sudden although he hasn't even started to dance, and the tightly fitting dress shirt with the rolled up sleeves is deep black as well, it's material shimmering in the flickering disco lights flitting over the dance floor.

Marco stares at the older man frozen in place, his throat dry and tight and his fists balled at his sides. The music changes to an old song, _'Last Train To Transcentral'_ from The KLF, and Robert goes with the music without stumbling or faltering in his motions as if he was a professional dancer and not a professional footballer.

Marco can't tell whether Robert turns around to Marco by accident, or if he feels someone staring at him that intensely, but he does, and the blond finds himself face to face with his former colleague and secret crush all of a sudden, Robert staring back at him with an unreadable expression on his beautiful male features, the Pole never stopping in his swaying and swinging. He circles his hips and shifts from foot to foot in time to the hammering beat, gravity hindering him not the least. Robert moves and circles his torso and his arms in the opposite direction to his hips, and what would look ridiculous and funny on anybody else looks sexy as hell on him and makes Marco wish for an ice-cold shower.

Robert whirls around his axis several times and yet manages to keep eye-contact with Marco, his blue eyes sparkling behind the black mask. Marco feels hot and cold shivers run down his spine as he watches the striker dance, his head spinning not only from the loud music and the heavy air, but also from his painful desire for the other man he has suppressed for so long.

A desire Marco refused to admit himself up to that night, and which he still tries to suppress. Marco knows that he desired Robert from the first look into his deep blue eyes, but there was Mario he was deeply in love with when Marco joined the BVB and after their painful breakup, Marco was too hurt and confused to even think of coming closer to another teammate again.

Then, Robert left for Munich as well, and Marco was hurt and angry that he had lost another teammate to Munich again and avoided Robert as best as he could, pushing his longing and his feelings for the Pole into the farthest corner of his heart and his mind.

But this wasn't the only reason for Marco to suppress his desire for Robert Lewandowski with almost grim determination. The other reason is that Marco still hasn't made his peace with his sexuality, with his longing and yearning for another man instead of a woman. He could give in to his needs with Mario and Erik because they both let him be the one on top even though it bothered them after some time – one of the reasons why both finally broke up with him.

But Robert Lewandowski isn't the man letting Marco top, no way. They have never talked about it, but Marco simply knows that. He doesn't even need to think about it, he just knows it.

Giving in to his desire for the dark-haired striker would have meant to bottom for him, and Marco won't bottom for anyone, even not for the man he desires more than he has ever desired anyone and anything, even more than Mario or Erik even though he truly loved Mario and really still cares about Erik. But his desire for Robert is like a force of nature, and it finally breaks free without any chance for Marco to lie to himself about not wanting Robert any longer.

Marco is aware that he should walk away, leave the club and run as fast as he can, but he stays where he is, watching Robert's every move with hungry eyes and desire burning in his veins.

Robert purses his lips to a predatory smile when Marco doesn't turn around to disappear into the crowd, crooking one finger at him while he dances, sways and circles his hips, and Marco obeys and walks over to him like being in trance or like a puppet pulled at its strings.

“Hello Mars,” Robert literally purrs when Marco has reached him, grabbing his hips and pulling him close until their groins touch. Marco is a good footballer, but he actually isn't that good at dancing, Robert is miles – light years – better at that, but he doesn't seem to mind, his hands guiding Marco and leaving him no other choice than to move with him.

“What are you doing here, Lewy?” Marco demands, his voice accusing. “What could possibly be worthy enough to drive the whole way to Dortmund from Munich just to visit a club? I'm sure that Munich has enough clubs for you to enjoy yourself without getting bored.”

The music changes to another old song again, the hammering beat of _'Temple Of Love'_ from the Sisters Of Mercy stealing his voice from his lips. Marco has to scream to make himself be heard, but maybe Robert has learned to read lips in the meantime, because his smile deepens.

“Oh, it has. But I still have friends here in Dortmund, Mars. I come here much more often than you would think. Besides,” Robert pushes Marco away and turns him around, pulling his butt against his hips. They are dancing with Marco's back pressed against Robert's chest now, Robert's hands on his hips keeping Marco from fleeing as he circles his pelvis and grinds his hips against Marco's ass.

“There might be a lot of clubs in Munich, but none of them can praise itself to have a certain and very special blond as its regular guest, Mars.” Robert purrs into his ear, his warm breath ghosting over Marco's flushed face.  
His hands seem to burn a hole into Marco's skin under the costume where they keep his hips in their firm grasp, and Marco has trouble with his breathing, the feeling of Robert's unmistakable arousal rubbing against his butt cheeks with every swaying and circling move driving him crazy with desire and lust. His cock twitches in his briefs, his tight costume showing his reaction to Robert's... how shall he call it – courting dance? - quite obviously. To even go one better, Robert loosens his left hand from Marco's writhing hips to travel upwards over his costume, teasing his hard nipples under the rather thin fabric. Marco flinches when he hears himself mewling, and Robert's throaty chuckle tickling his neck tells him that Robert has heard it as well.

It's the long version of the song, and Marco feels sweat breaking out of every pore of his body. He tries to remember why he never liked this song or thought that one couldn't dance to The Sisters of Mercy, but he can't come up with one single reason why he never found their music sexy, because fuck, Robert circling his hips against his this way, moving Marco with him while brushing over his aching erection with his hand as if by accident really blows his mind.

Marco knows for sure that he will never be able to listen to this song without remembering their dance in the future again. Robert's lips ghost over his neck, and Marco instinctively tilts his head back and offers him his vulnerable throat, pushing his ass back against the Pole's pelvis. He is hard, he is so damn hard, and he fears that he will come in his briefs just from this incredible dance.

“You won't come here on the dance floor, Reus, don't you dare!” the striker growls when he senses Marco tensing up before biting down and sucking at his skin just where his pulse is racing. Marco's eyes fall shut and he draws in a shaky breath, his thoughts racing as he considers the possibilities. “This club has a dark room...” he moans, flinching at his own words. It can't be that he has said that! Marco Reus would never only think of having sex in a rather public dark room with another man.

“I know what you're trying to do, Reus, but it won't work. Your moans and cries are mine and mine only, and the sight of your face when you come for me is not meant for anybody else than me either. You think that you will get away with a hand job or a blow job, but this is not what you really want, Reus. You're craving to feel my big and hard cock inside your virgin hole, you have craved for this ever since we first met. Let me tell you the good news, I am inclined to give you what you crave for so badly, you're getting the jackpot tonight.” Robert's husky promise makes Marco shudder with what can only be fear, It can't be arousal and anticipation, can it?

The Sisters of Mercy are still roaring, singing and shouting, and Robert keeps grinding his pelvis against Marco's ass, his hard cock under his jeans nudging the cleft between his butt cheeks under Marco's costume that are damp with sweat. Sweat of arousal their dance has evoked.

“I hate you!!”

The desperate words escape his dry throat before Marco can hold them back, but the dark-haired Pole only laughs. “No, you don't, Mars. You desire me, and you want me to take you. You might hate it that you want it so badly, but that won't keep you from taking me home with you because there is no way that you won't give in to me tonight. I am a patient man, Marco Reus, I have waited for years to get my hands on you, and you won't weasel your way out of this again, not tonight.”

Robert turns Marco around to him and when the blond looks in those blue depths, he knows that his former teammate is right. Marco might hate and fear the thought of bottoming for another man, but he will die if he can't have Robert tonight, and he can see that having Robert means bottoming for him. The striker is not the man contenting himself with harmless pleasures like hand jobs, and he will fuck Marco as thoroughly as he is doing everything else. Nothing else will do, that's the simple truth.

The Sisters of Mercy are finally done with turning Marco's world upside down within little more than eight minutes, and Robert slowly comes to a halt, waiting for Marco's decision with an unreadable face but glowing eyes.

Marco stares back, and his brief nod is hardly visible, but the Pole has seen it nonetheless. He smiles and pulls Marco from the dance floor and towards the exit without any other word.

 

***

 

“Where are the lube and the condoms?”

Marco bites his lips and shoots Robert a sidelong glance. He might have agreed to Robert fucking him, but the dark-haired striker could at least kiss him before going straight to the fucking part, couldn't he?

“In my bedroom, in the nightstand,” the blond gives back, defiance audible in his voice.

Robert smiles. He steps closer and gently pulls the mask from Marco's face. “Wait here, Mars.”

Marco stands in the middle of his living room before the brick-built fireplace, unsure what to do. It doesn't take long until Robert comes back with lube and condoms in his hand, his motions the movements of a black panther creeping up on its prey. The impression is intensified by his black clothes, and Marco feels new desire pooling in his groin when he watches the older man coming closer, his gaze roaming over the well-toned forearms accentuated by the rolled up sleeves.

Marco can hardly wait to feel them embracing him again.

Robert stops before him and puts the lube and the condoms onto the coffee table. He reaches out and grabs Marco by his neck, pulling him closer. “You will never forget this night, Mars, I promise you,” he whispers before finally, finally kissing him.

Robert is as good at kissing as he is at playing football, at scoring goals when no one else seems to be able to put the round into the square, and he surely is as good at kissing as he is at dancing and driving poor men crazy with his dancing.

Robert kisses him almost lazily, their mouths opened wide, and he explores Marco's mouth as thoroughly as he will most likely fuck him later. His tongue is everywhere in the soft cavern at the same time, and Marco can only let himself be kissed and cling to Robert's shoulders for dear life, needy whimpers fleeing his throat because he is aching all over with desire, his whole body in fire with need.

Robert makes an event out of undressing him as slowly as possible, kissing him all the while, fingertips teasing the hot flesh he exposes to the cool air of Marco's living room. “Lewy, please!”

Is that really his voice? Marco hardly recognizes it, and he trembles with the fire rushing through his veins.

“I know, Mars. I will fuck you just like you need me to fuck you,” Robert says in this purring bedroom voice that would already be enough to make Marco come right there and then. He shudders and moans, bucking his hips against the other man, his cock swollen and rock-hard, aching to be touched. Robert pulls back from his mouth and grazes with his calloused thumb over his bruised lips. “You will hold back, Mars. You won't come before I'm deep inside you!” he warns him, and Marco swallows and nods his head.

“Very well.” Robert smiles. “Lie down on the carpet before the fire place,” he orders, and Marco does as he's been told, watching the dark-haired Pole walk over to his hi-fi system.

The striker murmurs quietly to himself in Polish, obviously searching for something, and Marco is curious what he is up to. When Robert “ha-has!” triumphantly, he wants to ask him what he is doing, but the music filling his living room with its hammering beat already gives him the answer, because Marco has danced to this song only half an hour ago.

Robert Lewandowski is going to fuck him, and he will do it to the music of The Sisters of Mercy.

Marco gasps for air, and Robert laughs this throaty chuckle again, turning around and starting to undress before Marco's eyes. The blond footballer can't comprehend how anyone can undress while dancing to a song like _'Temple Of Love'_ without tripping over his own feet, but Robert proves to him that it is possible, and Marco has to dig his nails into his palm to not come from the sight of Robert undressing for him as skillfully as one of the Chippendales would do. His greedy eyes wander down to the gorgeous proof of Robert's utter maleness, and the Pole winks at him.

“All yours tonight, Mars. My friend here is hard only for you.” The blond bites his lip again. Robert is perfect, glorious, but how the fuck shall Marco take this impressive manhood in without being split into two halves?

Robert has lost the last piece of clothing in the meantime, and his expression softens when he sees the real fear in Marco's amber-green eyes. “I won't hurt you, Mars, I would never do that.” He lies down beside him and takes him in his arms for another passionate and deep kiss, and Marco relaxes and kisses him back.

“I don't think that you would, Lewy. It's only... the thought of doing that, of letting another man take me is... it's like I would be less of man after that then...” Marco knows that he is stupid, behaving silly, but he can't help it. He never considered Mario or Erik as being less of a man because they bottomed for him, quite the opposite, sleeping with them felt always so much better than sleeping with a woman ever did, and he was always aware that he held another man in his arms, but the thought of finally being at the receiving end scares him nevertheless.

“I thought that this is your problem, Mars, but there is nothing to worry about at all. You are a man, a desirable man, and you will feel like a man only when we're doing it. I wouldn't desire you as much as I do if you weren't the strong man you actually are.” Robert swallows his answer with his lips, thrusting deep into his mouth with his tongue. Marco's mind is spinning again, and his legs fall open when Robert snakes his hand between them. He must have taken the lube and the condoms from the table without Marco noticing it, because his fingers are slick from the cool liquid, and he moans with surprise when one curious digit massages his secret entrance for the very first time.

Marco never did that himself even though he wanted to, and it feels strange but also better than he has expected. “Relax, I will make that good for you, Mars,” Robert whispers before he gently pushes in, distracting him with another kiss.

 

***

 

The Sister of Mercy have finished _'Temple Of Love'_ and three other songs when Robert can finally push three fingers into Marco's virgin hole without the blond fighting against the intrusion, and he finds himself panting and bracing his heels against the cozy carpet, because Robert is not only a talented footballer, a great kisser and skilled dancer, but he also knows exactly how to drive another man crazy with his fingers. If Marco had had any doubts about Robert finding his sweet spot, then the striker proved to him that they are needless, because he finds it right away, massaging it until all the blond wants to do is shout and scream.

Which he finally does when it becomes to much. “Lewy, please, take me! I'm ready!”

“Ah yes, you are, my beautiful Mars, you're so ready for my hard cock fucking you nicely,” Robert growls, his husky voice and his blown pupils giving his own strong desire away. “Just tell me that you want my big fat cock in your sweet, tight hole, and I will give you what you have craved for ever since we first met.”

Marco stares up at the other man looming over him, and he is far too gone to care about acting like a proud man and not begging Robert to fuck him any longer. “I want your big cock inside me, Lewy, please, fuck me! Give me your hard dick!”

Robert chuckles very pleased. “Since you have asked me that nicely.” He takes the package with the condom and Marco watches him rolling it over his impressive manhood, the engorged head glistening with precome, swollen and deep red, and he almost comes from the sight of Robert's elegant fingers caressing his own cock as he puts the rubber where it belongs. He is so hard himself, his balls aching with the need to come, but he has the suspicion that Robert won't touch him where he wants to be touched so badly, but will make him come by fucking him into the floor. Marco must admit that he doesn't have any doubts that Robert is able to do that, make him come from only fucking him.

“Spread your legs for me, Mars!” Robert orders, making himself comfortable between his thighs and staring down at him like a beautiful predator.

The playlist he has set up in the hi-fi-system starts with the first song again, and Robert slowly pushes into Marco's tight heat to the rhythm of _'Temple Of Love'_.

 

***

 

Robert Lewandowski fucks like he plays football, elegantly and with great skills and natural talent, and he fucks like he dances, with fluent, rolling movements, his hips grinding against Marco's sweaty butt cheeks with the music until Marco's entire world is spinning around him like a merry-go-round.

Marco lies there on the carpet in his living room before the fire place, his legs spread as wide as possible without cramping, his own hips meeting every thrust with something akin to despair, and the goosebumps on his flushed body don't come from the cool air but from his overwhelming desire.

Robert has braced his hands against the floor beside Marco's head, and he stares down at him, his dark blue eyes watching him intensively, noticing the tiniest reaction to his fucking showing on Marco's face. Marco is burning, literally on fire, and he can't keep the mewls, moans and gasps inside, voicing his pleasure and lust with breathless groans and curses because he is sure that he will explode like a supernova if he stays silent.

The dark-haired Pole changes the angle and pushes deeper, his balls pressing against Marco's butt with every thrust now. “Raise your hips, Mars, wrap those beautiful long legs of yours around me,” the striker orders him, his husky voice betraying his own arousal. He doesn't seem to be in a hurry to give both of them what they need so badly though, and Marco wraps his legs around Robert's waist and pushes his hips up.

The next rolling move lets stars explode before Marco's eyes because Robert's cock has hit his prostate for the very first time, and Marco shouts out loudly. “Oh fuck, fuck, Lewy!! What are you waiting for? Fuck me harder, fuck me faster!”

Robert chuckles, but he doesn't obey, just keeps his slow, lazy rhythm. “You know what I'm waiting for, Marco. Just one more song and I will fuck you into your cozy carpet, don't you doubt that.”

Marco should have known that. Of course, Robert is waiting for the song when all of this started. Robert is waiting for _'Temple Of Love'_ to play again. He groans with frustration. “But it's hurting, Robert, please!”

Robert chuckles again, bending down to kiss him. “I know, Mars, but it will be worth it, I promise.”

 

***

 

Marco actually didn't believe him, but Robert has been right, the wait is more than worth it. Watching Robert move above him, see his face screwing in pleasure and painful lust is worth the wait, listening to his harsh breathing and his strangled sounds of desire is worth it, licking up the sweat that drops down from Robert's forehead onto his lips is worth the wait.

Keeping eye-contact with him and finally see the deep emotions Robert has for him is worth the wait. Listening to Robert's husky voice as he tells him how good it feels to be inside him, to sheathe his cock deep into Marco's hot tightness is worth it. Feeling Robert possessing him as if there was no tomorrow is worth the wait, and Marco loses ll track of time and focuses on his feelings and the sensations spreading out from the tiny spot deep inside him where Robert pushes against with every deep thrust. They course through every cell of his body, and Marco feels like flying and drowning at the same time, almost forgetting the ache in his neglected cock rubbing against Robert's perfect six-pack with every rolling move.

Nothing except for the man possessing him again and again is important any longer, watching him with those hungry deep-blue eyes, and time stretches to an eternity until the wait is over all of a sudden and Robert starts to move faster and harder without any warning.

Marco cries out when the first tunes of _'Temple Of Love'_ blast out of his loudspeakers because Robert keeps his promise and begins to literally fuck him into the carpet, battering his prostate with his merciless pummeling until Marco doesn't know his own name any longer and his vision goes white. The last thing he knows his Robert's possessive growl next to his ear and teeth sinking into his throat before his world explodes into a million glittering pieces.

“Come for me, Marco Reus, come for me now!”

The blond comes hard, his twitching and leaking cock trapped between their bodies shooting his overwhelming ecstasy all over his abdomen and chest, and he shouts and howls, the intensity of his pleasure almost too much to bear.

The Sisters of Mercy sing about love, about fire and fireworks, about guns, rain and thunder, devils in black dresses and guardian angles, and Marco comes and comes, his nails scratching over Robert's arms and leaving marks there as he arches his back with a loud shout. The Pole growls, still sucking at his throat as he marks his trembling prey shuddering through his climax underneath him as his for everyone to see, and Marco cries out again when he feels the heat of Robert's seed spurting against his cramping walls through the thin layer of latex.

“ROBERT!!!”

“You're mine, Marco, all mine!” The Pole's voice is hardly recognizable any longer, that raw with desire and lust that it comes out like the angry hiss of an attacking big cat, and after that, there is nothing for a rather long time, nothing except for pure bliss and utter and complete satisfaction.

 

***

 

When Marco is able to notice his surroundings again, Robert has pulled out of him, cleaned him up and pulled the woolen blanket from the couch over their in the with sex and male pheromones filled air cooling bodies. The blond cracks his eyes open just to see the dark-haired striker lying beside him, his chin resting in his palm. Robert must have stopped the hi-fi-system as well, and the silence is almost deafening.

The Pole smiles when he sees that Marco is looking at him, reaching out to caress his stubbly cheeks with his thumb. “That wasn't so bad, was it, Mars?” he asks, and Marco is surprised about the hint of uncertainty audible in the older man's voice.

“No, it wasn't,” he says impassively, and Robert's eyes widen with disbelief. Marco snickers. “Okay, it was mind-blowing, Lewy. Really. Thank you. But you do know that I will never be able to listen to this song without... ähm...”

“Getting a raging hard-on and craving for me to fuck you again? I hope so!” Robert retorts very smugly - too smugly for Marco's liking. He blushes and tries to scowl at the smug Pole, but he feels to happy and mushy to really put on a stern face.

“So this wasn't a one time thing?” he asks nervously. Robert considers him thoughtfully. “Do you want this to be a one time thing, Marco?” he asks back, and Marco shakes his head.

“No, I want this to be more than a one time thing. It's only that I can't be the one bottoming every time, Robert.” Marco feels a lump in his throat at the thought of Robert now standing up and leaving him, but the striker only smiles gently.

“I wouldn't expect you to always bottom for me, Mars. I'm not that selfish. But it was about time for you to finally do it, don't you think so?”

Marco pulls him down to kiss him. “Yes, it was, thank you for showing me that my fears were ungrounded. It was better than anything I've ever experienced.”

“You're welcome, Mars. At any time.” He grins and his blue eyes sparkle as he bares his teeth to this predatory look again. “Better than topping was? Really?” His dangerous smile widens when Marco nods hesitantly.

“That's good to know. I think I will fuck you to _'I'm only human'_ the next time!” he states, pressing Marco down to rub himself against the blond's body, already half-hard again.

Marco groans and rolls his eyes. “You'd better be joking, Lewandowski! It's my turn now!” he growls, trying to push him away, but when Robert kisses him as tenderly as Marco has never been kissed in his entire life before, he relaxes and pulls the other man close again.

“Of course, Mars. You'll need some time to recover, I would never hurt you. You will be on top the next time we'll do it.”

This is a promise Marco can't resist, and he turns around until Robert is lying trapped underneath him, grinning down at him as smugly as Robert did before. “That's only fair. Plus, I will choose the music I will fuck you to. I think I'll take something from Justin Bieber...”

This time, it is Robert's turn to roll his eyes and groan.


End file.
